Bittersweet
by Ireina Kurotsuki
Summary: Oneshot, semi-AU, Songfic, Shonen-Ai. Near waits once a year for these visits...‘Dark chocolate,’ Near decides, ‘is bittersweet.’ White teeth flash and another corner of the dark chocolate vanishes. “That time of year again?” a voice asks quietly.


**Bittersweet (Before the Dawn Songfic).**

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. If I did, everything after the Yotsuba arc would not have occurred, L and Light would've hooked up two eps after the chain went on and Near, Mello and Matt would've come in in some other fashion (Just because they rock). I also do not own Before the Dawn by Evanescence, nor the lyrics...

**Warning: Alternate Ending, Mild Shonen-Ai. If you don't like, please don't read! MelloxNear  
**

**Flames shall be extinguished with great force because it is bush-fire season and I hate bush-fires. Many Australians do.**

Yet another drabble-ish oneshot, this one a songfic that also owes its origins to the (long distant) QCS practice- or more precisely, the complete and utter boredom of the incessant practices (which I'm pleased to say I am quietly confident worked.

Enjoy! :D  
Ireina

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_Meet me after dark again and I'll hold you  
I am nothing more than to see you there_

--

'_Dark chocolate,' _Near decides, _'is bittersweet.'_ White teeth flash and another corner of the dark chocolate vanishes.

"That time of year again?" a voice asks quietly.

Near does not turn, does not acknowledge the dearly familiar voice, but with one hand balances another domino, biting off yet another portion of the bitterly addictive chocolate in the other.

"How long ago is it now?"

'_Three years,'_ Near answers silently. A whole three years without annoying little slights, without loud explosions and professions of constant irritation. A whole three years without-

"It always irritated me when you refused to answer," the voice sighs, and, although he can't see it, a hand runs through blond hair.

Near cannot acknowledge him, or when he disappears again before the sunrise it will cause the barely healed wound to tear open yet again. But Near knows he's fighting a losing battle.

"I don't know why I bother to visit _you_, y'know. There are so many other people I could visit." A sound, like leather whispering, and Near knows without turning that _he_ is now sprawled back on the couch somewhere behind Near, legs crossed over each other with his head tilted back in his trademark posture. "No, that's a lie," he corrects himself. "I know why."

--

_And maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away  
We'll be lost before the dawn._

--

Silence for a few minutes and, despite all his self-discipline, Near turns, as he always does, toward _him_, like metal shavings to a magnet. Dark charcoal grey meets crystalline blue-green and Near almost, _almost_ loses his hard-won composure at the expression in those eyes.

"We had so much time you know. So long. And we wasted most of it," _he_ says, the long-suppressed accent seeping into the words. Near shivers. Near has always treasured that accent. It only seeps into the other's speech when he's at an emotional extreme. Near has heard it most often in anger. But once or twice, like now… "Why did we waste so long?"

Near is silent. He knows the other doesn't really need an answer.

_He _unfolds himself from the couch like a cat, pulling Near into his arms, burying his face into Near's soft, white curls.

It's always like this. Always. It feels so _real_ for a while. Only for the brief time before the sun rises.

--

_If only night can hold you where I can see you, my love  
Then let me never ever wake again_

--

Near can smell his scent, musky and spicy, and oh, so _alive_. Near closes his eyes, inhaling the scent. The memory of it will have to last him for another year after all.

In yet another catlike motion Near feels the ridged skin glide against his flat cheek, a dampness between Near's flesh and _his_ almost causing Near to allow the burning sensation in his eyes to turn to liquid.

"_Near_." he whispers, mouth against Near's ear.

Near cannot say his name. He mustn't. If Near does, he knows he'll come undone.

Gently, oh, _so_ gently for a man so given to violence as _he_ is, the blonde man lays a hand in a fingerless leather glove on Near's cheek, thumb caressing Near's cheekbone. He murmurs something in Russian and Near closes his eyes against the burning.

--

_And maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away  
We'll be lost before the dawn_

--

Something velvet soft gently brushes his lips in a butterfly kiss and, against his will, Near's eyes open. A hand weaves itself into Near's curls.

"Now I have your attention…" The other male's voice is husky, and Near's hormones can't seem to help but cheer at the raw desire in that voice, even as his calculating, logic-driven mind tells him he cannot allow _that_ to happen.

With somewhat more force, Near's lips are captured in a searingly real kiss and automatically their mouths open, and Near tries to capture this taste in his memory, because somehow his phenomenal, near-perfect memory never quite captures this unique taste.

He theorises that the other has this same problem once he returns to… wherever it is he returns to, (Near cannot bring himself to consider where _he_ might have to go when he leaves.) for it is always as though the other is always doing the same, trying to commit every moment, every touch to his (not inconsiderable) memory in the short span of time before the dawn comes and ends it.

The blonde's leather-clad body is firm against his, but cold. In what Near will never admit to be a desperate desire to keep him here, in this moment, _alive_, Near clutches at _his_ arms, deepening the kiss.

Eventually they end the kiss, and Near presses his face into the melted skin on _his_ neck, locks of pale golden hair tickling his face as they brush over it, with those strong arms around Near's waist, the blonde's hands resting lightly on the skin of Near's lower back under the white shirt.

"Even when I hold you like this you're silent, sheep." the other says finally, though with resignation, not anger. "I don't understand it. Why don't you make the best of what time we have?"

'_If I converse with you it makes this real.'_ Near wants to tell him. _'It makes you alive again. And then, when you leave, it's like you're dying all over again.'_ Softly Near brushes a light kiss over the scar. _'And dear God, forgive me but I'm not strong enough to suffer that repeatedly.'_

Those arms tighten around Near, and _he's _like an ice-sculpture now. "It's time." he says softly, not releasing Near.

Finally Near allows himself to break his self-imposed silence. "Take me with you." he orders softly.

"What, no please? Manners, sheep." the blonde says, faint half-smile on his face teasingly.

"Please."

A sigh, and Near is released.

"It's not time yet."

"Yet?"

"Yet. Don't you dare think I'll let anyone else take you away when it's time." As though catching the mutinous glint in Near's eyes he adds, "And you had better not try and speed the process along either," he warns.

"_You_ would." Near points out, ignoring the pain as he watches the other become faded around the edges.

"_I_ would." he agrees. "But I won't let _you _do it. You know you're still needed here. And besides, L won't be pleased if you allow yourself to make the same mistake as he made."

"And what 'mistake' do you refer to?"

The other smiles softly, almost sadly.

"Allowing lust to cloud your better judgement."

"It's not merely lust." Near retorts at last in a quiet voice. _'It never was.'_ he admits to himself silently.

"I know. I've known awhile. But until you can say it, then I won't either. I'm just as stubborn as you are, and just as annoying, sheep." A lop-sided smile and he steps further away from Near towards the wall. "Bye Near."

His face is the last thing to go.

--

_Somehow I know that we can't wake again from this dream_

_It's not real, but it's ours_

--

Resisting the urge to clutch his chest at the horribly familiar pain ripping into his chest, Near sits and, outwardly calm, returns to his toys. Absently he reaches out a hand and snaps off yet another dark square.

'_Yes,'_ Near thinks as detachedly as he can possibly make himself, drawing his familiar mask around him like a security blanket, gratefully sinking into that emotionless abyss.

"Goodbye-" Near says aloud softly, placing another domino atop the tower.

'_Dark chocolate is definitely-'_

"Mello."

'_bittersweet.'_

A damp trail appears on Near's cheek and the tower collapses.

--  
_And maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away  
We'll be lost before the dawn_

--

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Is another sad one-shot, ne? :(

I like to receive your reviews, so if you'd like, go ahead and leave one!

Ireina


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